The Past Stays in the Past
by NachtcGleiskette
Summary: Raven and Kurt discuss their pasts.


She didn't have a choice but to run into him often now. She'd decided to stay and help her brother build this team they'd been talking about for decades now, and _he_ was on it. She'd had many a conversation with Charles about him. He was _shocked_ , then thrilled to learn he had a nephew, but she made him _promise_ he would never tell the boy. Still, she sometimes noted a small smile or extra attention given to him, which drove her crazy. She did not _want_ him to ever know. She had no idea what she would _say_ to him if she did.

So, this Saturday was really no different. The children had been dismissed from training and she'd heard them talking about heading to the mall, so she was a bit surprised to find him alone in the sitting room with a book. "I thought everyone was going out."

"Ja," he said, looking up. "I didn't want to go." It was amazing that a boy who came from the stock he did had absolutely _no_ poker face. Though she didn't let on, simply sitting in the chair across from him.

"Why not?" she asked him.

He shrugged, putting the book down. "I do not feel…." He paused. "I don't _fit in_ as well. It's not like it was in Germany, but it can still be uncomfortable."

She nodded. "I understand," she told him. "As much as the world has adapted to mutants, it's still not a kind place."

"Ja," he agreed. "Don't get me wrong… I _love_ it here. But I still get stares. The big difference is no one tries to hurt me." He frowned, slouching a bit in the couch.

She felt a little tightness in her chest at that. _Who tried to hurt you?!_ But rather just took a breath. "Other countries are catching up. But I don't doubt you have had a difficult life, Kurt."

He shrugged. "Only recently, really. My mother did very well in keeping me safe, growing up."

She paused. "Your mother?" she asked, keeping her voice even, hoping to not let on to anything.

"Well, my _adopted_ mother," he clarified. "I don't know my birth parents. I am sure they took one look at me and-" he stopped himself with a frown. "She was in a traveling circus. She raised me there with her children."

She frowned deeply at him. Was that what he'd thought, his whole life? That he'd been abandoned because of how he looked? "I doubt your mutation had anything to do with why your parents left you," she told him.

He raised a brow at her. "You don't know that. And who would blame them? Imagine two _normal_ people having a baby who looked like me-"

"Stop," she said, firmly. This _broke_ her heart. "Did you consider your parents could have been mutants?" she asked.

"Maybe," he shrugged. "But then, I wonder all the more why they would abandon me. If they were mutants and they _knew_ what it was like to be like this, how could they just leave me behind?"

"Not everyone is meant to be a parent," she told him. This was really bothering her. She could _not_ imagine the pain he had gone through his whole life, believing his birth parents _hated_ him. It was sad, and it was also _untrue_. She never hated him….she just never thought of his needs over her own. She could tell by his expression that he wasn't buying her stories. "I knew your father."

His eyes widened and he sat up, leaning forward. "How did you know my father?"

"I worked with him, many years ago," she told him. A small smile came over her lips.

"What was he like?" he asked her, his eyes pleading. God, it hurt her, how desperately he wanted to connect with his past, and how little of it she wanted to give him.

"He was brash," she told him. "He had a physical mutation, like you, but he never let others treat him poorly for it. He was _proud_ of it." She directed her smile at Kurt. "You should be too."

He shook his head, ignoring that last bit. "Where is he? What happened to him?"

"He died," she told him, honestly, the smile melting away. "Before you were even born. Before he even _knew_ about you. I think, though, had he known, he would have wanted you. He would have been a good father." The possibility was there. Azazel was ruthless to his enemies, but he gave _everything_ for his loved ones. If he had survived, perhaps she would have kept their baby, and they would have raised him together. But… he didn't.

Kurt was frowning, looking away from her. He was silent, thoughtful, for a moment, before turning back to look at Raven. There was something indiscernible in his eyes when he did, something that made her take pause. "My mother?" he asked her. "Did you know her?"

She paused, almost as long as he had, then shook her head, looking away. "She's dead too." The woman who had bore this child _was_ dead, in Mystique's mind. It had been a long, tortuous death, starting with the deaths of her friends, and finally being cemented just before the events in 1973. In between all that, a tiny ray of light had shone, in the form of her son, who sat before her now. But she couldn't _do_ it. She couldn't raise him. She did her best to find someone who _could_ and then turned her back, hoping to never think of him again. But that wasn't a possibility. The world was small, and the mutant world was even smaller. She was naïve to think she'd never see him again.

He lifted a brow at her. "When did she die?"

The way he looked at her made her feel increasingly uncomfortable. She suddenly felt vulnerable in her natural blue skin, as if it would give away everything she was trying to hide. "Years ago," she said, vaguely, before she stood, shifting to her blonde visage. "I'm hungry," she said, changing the subject. "Have you eaten?" The boy shook his head. "I'll make something, sound good?" She took the opportunity to turn and head out of the room. She took a deep, shuddering breath as she entered the kitchen, feeling raw as old wounds were reopened. She hadn't thought on all of this in so many years, and it still _hurt_. She opened the refrigerator, pausing to close her eyes and calm herself. After a moment, she pulled out a few things then closed the door, nearly jumping at Kurt who was on the other side.

"Sorry," he said. "I just….I needed to say…"

Here it came. He knew. He knew and he hated her. She _deserved_ whatever he was going to say right now, but she in no way wanted to hear it. What she wouldn't give for his power right now, and a quick getaway.

"Thank you," he said. "I did not really thank you, when you saved me from the fights, ja? You risked yourself for me, and I wanted you to know how much I appreciated it."

She nodded. "No one deserves to be enslaved," she said generally. _Especially not my son_.


End file.
